


Christmas Morning, 1924

by theoofoof



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Post 5x09, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoofoof/pseuds/theoofoof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after. Just how did Christmas morning shape up for our favourite butler and housekeeper? Spoilers for the 2014 Christmas Special. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Morning, 1924

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my take on 'the morning after' for Carson and Mrs Hughes. Thanks to olehistorian for the beta. I hope you like it.

"Do you have a moment, Mrs Hughes?" Mr Carson asked as the staff stood from the table to get on with their day. It was Christmas morning; the morning after she'd agreed to marry him. They hadn't had much time to talk since then. After finishing their punch, they had returned upstairs to enjoy the remainder of the party and then assist with the clearing away; by the time they had finished it was gone one o'clock. Downstairs, Mrs. Patmore had been determined that she and Mrs. Hughes go up together. So they'd said goodnight in her presence and this morning, when she had arrived downstairs, the kitchen staff and hall boys were already up and about. So he was eager to some time alone with her, even if it was only a few moments.

"Certainly," she replied, following him into his office.

Just like the previous evening, he waited for her to enter and then shut the door. For a moment he could finally be Charles, not the Butler, and greet his fiancé properly. He smiled as he stood in front of her and took her hand in his. "Good morning, Mrs Hughes. Did you sleep well?"

She returned his smile. "Yes Mr Carson, I did… when I finally managed to fall asleep."

"I'm sorry you had trouble sleeping," he replied.

"I'm not." He looked at her questioningly and she felt the need to elaborate. "My mind was slightly preoccupied by thoughts of this 'old booby' I know," she added, teasingly.

His smile grew wider. "I do hope that particular term of endearment isn't going to become a permanent one."

"I'm not sure Mr Carson, but I can think of one way to ensure that doesn't happen."

"And what is that?" She bit her lip and he knew that she thought he would not like her suggestion. He tried to reassure her. "Mrs Hughes, we are going to be married, we need to be able to be honest with each other, even if we think the other will not like what we have to say."

"It isn't that I don't think you'll 'like' it, I just… Oh for heaven's sake!" she scolded herself. "I was going to suggest that perhaps, now that we are to be married, we could call each other by our Christian names. Only when we're alone of course, I wouldn't dare do so in front of the staff. Do you think me quite improper?"

"Not at all… Elsie. It seems like a sensible idea. We can't very well go through married life referring to each other as Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, can we?"

"No, Charles, we can't. Especially as once we are married, I'll no longer be Mrs Hughes."

"No, you'll be Mrs Carson," he beamed proudly.

Her face reflected his pride. "Yes I will. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Ah yes." He moved to his desk and opened the middle drawer, removing a small parcel. "I have a something for you."

"I have something for you too. If you're happy to wait a moment I can go and get it?"

"Very well." He watched her exit his pantry, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve her.

Mrs Hughes returned momentarily, the package he'd seen her wrapping a few days earlier in her hand. Mr Carson invited her to sit and they exchanged gifts.

Mr Carson delicately unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid off the box. Inside was a pair of handkerchiefs, embroidered with his initials. "Thank you Elsie, these are lovely."

"I'm glad."

"You needn't have bought me anything, you know. If your money could have been better-"

She raised her hand in objection. "Please Charles. Let's not ruin Christmas morning by speaking of money."

"I beg your pardon. That was insensitive of me. But I would like to say one more thing." Mrs Hughes rolled her eyes, but allowed him to continue. "I need to you know that I did not ask you to marry me because of your… situation. It was always something I intended to do. I just didn't feel I could whilst we were still in employment here. It didn't seem proper. The two of us buying a property together was my way of building a future with you, within those restrictions. Your admitting that you couldn't come in on the house with me merely expedited my proposal; it didn't prompt it."

"I won't say that the thought didn't cross my mind because that would be untrue," she admitted, moving quickly to reassure him, "but it was fleeting. Quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness." The moment that thought had begun to take hold, she had remembered the look on his face as he'd told her he 'wasn't marrying anyone else'. A look of devotion and, dare she think it, love? Whilst she knew he hadn't asked out of a misguided sense of obligation, she couldn't be certain that his feelings went as far as love. He may just have been 'quite fond' of her. She knew she loved him, however and was willing to take whatever he was capable of offering her. Whether that be companionship or more.

"Good. I'd hate for you to think that I'd asked out of pity."

She nodded and placed her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I don't. Truly."

"Well then, we won't speak of it again. Now, open your gift," he tapped the still wrapped parcel sitting on the table between them.

Upon opening the gift, Mrs Hughes was left quite speechless. "Mr Carson, I…"

"I'm sure you know it's a luckenbooth," he supplied. "I believe it's a Scottish tradition to give one to the woman you intend to marry."

Mrs Hughes smiled. "It is. But you didn't acquire this overnight," she commented knowingly.

"No, I didn't." He wouldn't elaborate any further. Wouldn't tell her that it's been burning a hole in his pocket since the season after her health scare. "Merry Christmas, Elsie."

"It's beautiful," she awed as she admired the silver brooch.

"Then it will compliment you perfectly." He blushed as he spoke. He'd been doing that a lot lately and it was a trait that Mrs Hughes found rather endearing. It was on these occasions that she felt she saw the man beneath the butler's mask."

Mrs Hughes placed the brooch back in its box with great care. "I daren't wear it today, as much as would like to," she explained. "I know we haven't many staff with Scottish connections but if someone were to recognise it…"

"Quite," agreed Mr Carson. "But that does bring up the issue of when we should tell people."

"I suppose that depends. Did you have a timescale in mind when you proposed?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "But I do know this, I want to make you Mrs Carson as soon as I am able, if you are agreeable?"

"But what of our positions? Can we really afford to-" She was silenced by him taking her hand and pulling her out of the chair to stand in front of him.

"I thought we weren't to talk of money today? I think the best course of action is to be as honest with everyone as possible. That way, if people discover we've bought a house together, it won't cause as much of a stir." Mrs Hughes didn't look convinced. "The work on the house will start straight away in the New Year. If his Lordship doesn't permit us to stay once we are married, then we will hand in our notice, train our replacements and then retire to run our little guesthouse. It may be tight, but we'll manage."

"If you're sure?"

"I am. Now, if it's all the same to you, I'd quite like to wish my betrothed a proper Happy Christmas." He lifted his eyes and she followed his gaze to find a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That had certainly not been there the night before. He must have stolen it from one of the numerous spots around the house where it had been hung.

One hand moved to cup her cheek and the other found her waist. Slowly, savouring the moment, his dipped his head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She responded in kind. The contact was momentary and rather chaste, but with the promise of much more behind it, which confirmed to Mrs Hughes that Mr Carson was offering more than just companionship.

When they stepped apart, they wore matching shy smiles as they held each other's gaze.

A knock on the door pulled their attention away from each other. Mrs Patmore entered. "I thought you'd want to know that his Lordship is down for breakfast; Thomas and Andy have already gone up." She regarded the butler and the housekeeper curiously for a moment; they hadn't quite regained their composure. It was only when she noticed the mistletoe that her eyes began to widen.

Thanks to years of perfecting the art of unspoken communication, a quick glance between Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, decided the course of action.

"Thomas and Andy can manage breakfast for the moment," Mrs Hughes said, as she closed and locked the door. "Mr Carson and I have some news…"


End file.
